a chicken sandwich would not be amiss
You know how fortune tellers used to read fortunes in tea leaves? (I guess that might still be going on, but haven't heard about it) I was wondering if the same tea leaf fortune principles would apply to my skin flakes in the bathtub. Because, Cat Babies? This tattoo is really giving up the skin flakes; it's disgusting. But perhaps auspicious?
I have figured out my boss has no idea (zero) what I do; what my responsibilities are. He doesn't know what anyone else does either; how can this inspire confidence? It can't, that's how. He keeps sending me emails asking me to do something that I not only have never done, but have no idea how to do because someone else in the office has Always done it. I keep forwarding the emails to the proper person and telling him I forwarded them, and he keeps saying stuff like, "But can't you download that?" Um, NO, dammit. The most aggravating thing is, I know he just thinks I'm being difficult. He thinks I'm not a "team player" because I keep forwarding his requests to the person whose responsibility they are instead of doing them myself. He has annoyed me this morning to the point that I closed my door and put a sign on it that says, "Too Vile for Society". I can't stand hearing his voice and the door muffles it a little.
On a happier note, I made some biscotti on Monday and they were So much better than the previous batch. These are apricot and pistachio and they're Amazing. I had one with my coffee this morning and Mmmm. I'm glad I didn't give up after the cornmeal/almond ones. Those weren't that delicious. At all.
Got up early this morning and walked on the treadmill, gingerly. It wasn't that uncomfortable but I had to keep adjusting my pants to keep them off the tattoo and that was real flattering, I'm sure. Luckily only the cats were in the room. I'll be very glad when it's all healed up, because I'm tired of the tenderness now. I say this not to get pity, because god knows you can't ask for pity when you bring something like a tattoo on yourself, but just as a fact. It's getting old, this achey pain. On the plus side, I can now lay on my back if I'm careful, so things are looking up.
And Buffy was pretty good last night, I think. I say "I think" because I haven't been watching since the beginning and I don't know how last night's episode compares with past episodes. But Boy and I enjoyed it; it's our little Thing. He and I have Joe Millionaire as well, right now, since Francisco won't watch that for love or money. Francisco is not a tv snob, per se, but he doesn't enjoy wallowing in crap tv like Boy and I do. Except for The Man Show, of course. And South Park, which is brilliant but most people would call it crap, probably.
What is Not crap is West Wing, and even though it's a rerun tonight, I'm still looking forward to it.
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